


Mind

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Daydreaming, F/M, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astoria’s imagination runs away with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.
> 
> Birthday present for JasperDarkAngel.

Draco has to leave after the Arithmancy meeting, but there’s only two left, so Astoria doesn’t begrudge him all that much. They both understand these meetings are pointless anyway—Scorpius has never gotten anything less than an ‘O’ in his life. Having both gone to Hogwarts, neither of them fully understand why there are now parent-professor conferences anyway—specially for clearly gifted students.

Nevertheless, Astoria endures Professor Binn’s dull drone of a voice, telling her how her son ‘Samson’ is doing ‘quite adequate.’ Astoria is quite sure he has no idea which child is hers, and she’s quite sure that even if he knew, he wouldn’t have anything at all helpful to say. Politics are a Slytherin gift, however, and she sits quietly through it, nodding politely every few minutes.

Half an hour later, she’s delighted to leave, winding down to the greenhouses for the final interview. Herbology, like every other conceivable area of study, is something Scorpius excels at. She’s quite proud when she takes a seat in the old wooden chair in front of the desk in Professor Longbottom’s office—Professor Binns didn’t give her the usual praise she’s used to.

Professor Longbottom is different than Professor Binns in almost every possible way. He’s young, handsome, and quite alive. He moves his chair up to his desk with strong, dirt-stained arms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The tight sweatervest does nothing to hide his pecs, and as he leans over the desk, Astoria is forced to wonder when on Earth Neville Longbottom became so good-looking. She didn’t notice him much in Hogwarts, being several years younger, but he’s certainly changed from the distant memory she has. He’s grown up and hardened, and his voice is deep and lulling. “Scorpius is an excellent student,” he tells her immediately, with a warm smile that reaches his hazel eyes.

Astoria then proceeds to promptly block out the rest of his speech. Now that she knows it’s good, she knows exactly what it will be. It’s the end of the day, and the air in the greenhouse is hot and muggy—various plants line the glass walls and fill the cozy room with many fragrant, flowery scents. Astoria leans slightly back in her chair, mind set to wandering.

Neville isn’t handsome in the same way Draco is, exactly. He’s darker: more tanned—he’s perhaps a bit taller, and definitely stronger. His hair is slightly disheveled, and he has a bit of stubble going that only an outdoors professor could get away with. His smile is bright and genuine.

Draco is pale, lithe, aristocratic and polished. His face is always smooth and his hair is always neatly combed, and he more sneers than smiles. Yet when Astoria pictures them together, she sees a wealth of similarities too. Mostly in that they’re both very attractive. Physical interest is certainly not lacking in her marriage. Draco often finds a place in her daydreams, even when Astoria is trying to be exotic and naughty.

Instead of her husband, she wants to picture Professor Longbottom now. Neville, she supposes. If she’s going to play with him in her mind, they need to be on a first name basis. Astoria is very good at consciously dreaming in public—he doesn’t seem to notice as a she pictures him coming through the door of her bedroom, muddied from the garden and perspiring from work.

Astoria isn’t in her bedroom, of course. She isn’t one to daydream about herself, but the Manor has such a lovely master suite that it’d be silly not to use it. She pictures Neville in it as he talks on in the real world, quiet and thoughtful in her head.

In her head, Neville’s returning from a hard day’s work, and he strips his clothes slowly in the middle of the room. When he slides his sweatervest over his head, his shirt rides up, revealing just a hint of his six-pack. His shirt he unbuttons slowly, one-by-one, until he can brush it off his broad shoulders, chest sun-kissed and bare. He unfastens his belt as the door opens, turning to look.

Draco, fresh out of the shower, strolls straight into her fantasy, as he so often does. He’s completely naked with just a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water still trickling down his thin torso. His bangs are sensually slicked down across his forehead, grey eyes fogged with lust at the sight of his intruder. Parting his pink lips beautifully, Draco drawls, “A bit far from the garden, aren’t you?”

Fantasy-Neville sounds just like real Neville, except that his voice drips with honey and sex. “I finished Scorpius’ private lesson,” he answers smoothly, fingers still at his fly. “...And I thought his father might like one as well...” His hazel eyes rake lazily up and down Draco’s form, drinking in every hard angle and every supple curve. Draco looks like a supermodel when he wants to, and Astoria thinks of him on their wedding night, young and alive. Draco raises an eyebrow haughtily.

“Oh? And what exactly were you going to teach me?” Draco reaches behind him as he speaks, closing the door gently. The lock clinks into place.

When Draco looks back, Neville has already strolled halfway across the room, and he doesn’t stop until he’s right against Draco. Neville’s strong arms reach out to either side of Draco, palms flat against the door, and he leans into Draco’s ear to absolutely purr, “Something _wonderful_.”

Draco shivers, lashes fluttering. He doesn’t answer right away—just lowers his hands to loosen the towel, dropping it carelessly to the floor. It pools over their feet, revealing Draco in all his perfect glory. His cock is already half-hard against the front of Neville’s jeans, flushed pink and almost dripping. Neville makes a growling noise in the back of his throat akin to a hungry predator, but Draco silences it by tilting his head and pressing their lips together. His skilled fingers move to Neville’s fly, diving underneath the layers of fabric to cup the large bulge beneath. Neville moans into Draco’s mouth, diving in his tongue.

Draco’s an excellent kisser. Neville’s just as good, but fiercer—he devours Draco’s mouth and grinds Draco into the door, rutting shallowly into his hand and sliding their bared chests together. Draco’s nipples are rubbed to hardness under the pressure, cock bouncing against his own stomach, trapped beneath Neville’s. Neville finally sways his hips hard enough to make the denim slide down, and Draco helps push the boxers out of the way. What’s left is Neville’s full cock, gloriously huge. It’s impossibly thick and gorgeously long in Draco’s hand, already dripping beads of precum from the slit. Draco thumbs the head and strokes the shaft as they slam into each other, frenzied and hot. Draco wraps his other hand around Neville’s strong shoulders, pulling him in. Neville fists one hand in Draco’s hair—Draco moans like a pornstar.

“Mrs. Malfoy?”

No, she isn’t there. Neville’s reaching a hand down Draco’s back, squeezing his ass and kneading it roughly—Draco breaks the kiss to gasp, arching upwards. They’re both so hard it’s unbelievable, and Draco turns his most erotic bedroom eyes on Neville, hissing, “Bed. Now.”

“Mrs. Malfoy?”

No, she’s in the kitchen or something. Making pancakes for Scorpius. While upstairs her hot-as-hell husband is being pressed against their bedroom door, and kissed all the way down his—

“ _Mrs. Malfoy? Hello?_ ”

Astoria snaps abruptly out of her daydream, cheeks flushed.

“I asked if you had any questions,” Professor Longbottom repeats kindly, as though parents space out in his presence all the time.

Astoria automatically says, “Oh, no, that’s quite alright.”

He nods and says, “Well, I think that’s everything, then. You’ve done a wonderful job.”

“Thank you,” Astoria nods, into preening mode instantly. “You have, too. You should see what he’s done with our gardens since taking your class.”

Professor Longbottom grins like it’s the most flattering thing he’s ever heard, and he stands politely. She gets out of her chair and he walks her over to the door, opening it for her like a gentleman.

Astoria’s just about to head off to the nearest Floo-able fireplace, when she turns abruptly, asking on a whim, “Actually, you really should see them sometime. Would you and your wife be interested in dinner on Saturday?”

Professor Longbottom looks a little startled, but he doesn’t say no.


End file.
